Payback
by Jake Crepeau
Summary: Missing scene from “Barriers of Sound.” Takes place after the epilogue, and in an alternate universe where Bogg has adopted Jeffrey.


**Disclaimer: **_Voyagers!_ and its associated characters are registered trademarks of Scholastic Productions, James D. Parriott Productions, and Universal-MCA Entertainment. This story is provided for entertainment purposes only; no copyright infringement is intended by the author.

**A/N: **This story is actually a "flashback scene" from another tale which, as of the publication date, is not yet complete. Because I decided it worked better as a standalone, I deleted it from the larger work and posted it under its own title.

_**Voyagers!**_

**Payback**

**by**

**Jake Crepeau**

The warm night air blew softly, cooling what might otherwise have been a hot, muggy night, and the soft grass on which he lay tickled his arms. Jeffrey looked around himself, wondering what had awakened him---formerly a sound sleeper, he had rapidly acquired the ability to come to full alertness at the slightest sound, once he'd taken that fateful fall from his window.

Lying still, he listened carefully, but heard nothing amiss. "Bogg?" he whispered.

There was no answer; the soft, even breathing of the larger form a few feet away continued unabated. Now that was odd; any sound that had awakened him should have had the more experienced Voyager on his feet before Jeffrey could even open his eyes. He must have imagined it then; it had happened before. Rolling onto his other side, he quickly fell asleep once more.

Bogg heaved a deep sigh of relief. He'd been unaware of the small whimper rising in his throat until it had escaped, very soft, but apparently loud enough to wake Jeff. He'd carefully regulated his breathing to feign sleep, not answering when the kid had whispered his name, and his son had soon gone back to sleep.

His son. The one comfort he had left in a world that had turned into a morass of pain. The boy had no idea how _much_ comfort. The only time since the night he'd fallen overboard in the middle of a hurricane, only to awaken in a small blue room, that he'd been able to act on his feelings without trace of any nagging guilt. That his offer of adoption had been accepted was still nothing less than a small miracle to him.

And then, for two short, glorious days, it had seemed that perhaps he had actually found a mother for the kid, and to blazes with history. It had been Jeffrey who had brought him to his senses, with a scathing lecture that had reiterated everything he himself had taught the boy over the past year and a half. Then, with a wisdom far beyond his thirteen-plus years, he'd backed off and left Bogg to do the right thing.

To speak harsh words that had driven Mabel away from him and into Bell's arms where she belonged, ripping his own heart right out of his chest, leaving behind a gaping hole that still ached a day later. The tears rose again, and he turned, muffling his face in his sleeve as the dam ruptured once more, and he desperately tried to stop before he woke Jeffrey again.

It was too late. "Bogg?" came the voice again, this time accompanied by a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"I'm okay, kid; go back to sleep," he replied, his voice unsteady.

The figure silhouetted against the star-filled sky shook its head. "Unh-uh. Not and leave you alone like this. I remember what _that's_ like, even if I don't know exactly what you're going through."

"Yeah, I guess you do," Bogg acknowledged---a year of mourning his parents alone in his room while his aunt and uncle went their merry way, ignoring their young charge's needs. "Thanks."

The slender shoulders lifted in a shrug. "How many times have you been there when I needed you? Now it's my turn."

Bogg actually managed a smile as he sat up and put a hand on Jeff's shoulder. "What would I do without you?" he said. He'd meant it to lighten the mood; instead, a shudder passed through him, and suddenly he was sobbing into the kid's shoulder. Jeffrey said nothing, only holding him exactly as he had held the boy so many times in the past. Sometimes---the slender ray of light poked through his own dark cloud---sometimes payback was a _good_ thing.

_**finis**_


End file.
